Nursing Jane
by seewhatsinyourheart
Summary: With Red John out of the picture, Jane is finding it hard to adjust to life without his obsession. When he gets shot at a crime scene, adjusting to life may be harder than initially thought. Jane/Lisbon. Inspired and loosely based on the 1991 movie, 'Regarding Henry'.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first Mentalist Story! It will be a multi-chapter, so I hope to keep you gripped enough to come back! :) **

**If you have Tumblr and you're reading this, yes this is seewhatsinyourheart from Tumblr, HEY! :D**

**Thanks to my Betas Josh and WavesOfRed**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

"We'll get right on it, Sir"

Lisbon put the phone down with a heavy, disappointed sigh. She was hoping to get a quiet hour to herself today; it had been the most hectic week she'd had in years. Tuesday night, at 10:47pm, they had finally taken down Red John. Unbelievably, but looking back, not surprisingly, he had a secret hide out underneath the Visualize HQ. Nobody knew of course, not even those who worked there every day. Apart from Bret Stiles that is.

It all made sense now. He seemed to have some kind of connection with Van Pelt, which unceremoniously backfired when she got close enough to make him believe she had converted into a visualize member. She played the part well, all the while gaining as much information as she could, before bingo! She got the vital information they had waited ten years for: Red John finally had a location. Lisbon had vastly underestimated Van Pelt's ability - she realised wearily that she had done that a lot. She must thank her soon, and more importantly give her more field work; she did after all locate California's most notorious serial killer.

That moment on Tuesday night, Grace had ran through the Bullpen and into Lisbon's office.

Forgetting formalities she excitedly, but extremely nervously had stuttered that she knew where Red John was.

Lisbon and a previously lounging Jane, jumped up and were out of the CBI Building before Van Pelt had had time to finish her sentence.

The team bombarded the SUVs – Jane and Lisbon in one, whilst Rigsby, Cho and a slightly shaken Van Pelt took the other.

They had arrived at Visualize in record time.

Jane unbuckled his seat belt and practically ripped the car door off its hinges before Lisbon was able to park.

She had managed to catch up with him, warning him to stay back whilst the rest of them go in, but from the wild look he had in his eyes, she knew she had lost him the moment Van Pelt raced into the CBI.

Lisbon sighed, turning to look at her reflection in the glass window of her office. Even a week later, she still hadn't fully gotten him back. She realised as she looked at the dark pools resting under her eyes that it was taking its toll on her. She hadn't had a full night's sleep since, and from the rare few glimpses of Jane this week, neither had he. But it would have to wait, for they had a case. She tiredly left her office, stopping in the bullpen briefly to update the team before making her way to the attic, where she knew Jane would be. She knocked a few times and waited.

"Jane?"

Silence.

She hesitated before carefully sliding the huge metal door open. She immediately spotted him lying on his make-shift bed, facing the wall away from her. He was pulling away from the team again and she knew it. A different reason this time but it still hurt. She knew he was upset he wasn't the one to kill Red John, he felt that his right had been taken away from him, betrayed by the people he had come to value as family. In all honesty, Lisbon didn't care. Jane was alive and Red John wasn't, that was something she had begun to think would never happen. Jane would be fine, he'd get through this.

"Jane, we're up, we have a case."

He sighed heavily, but didn't move. Lisbon progressed from the doorway and gently perched on the edge of the bed, her right knee lightly pressing against Jane's back as she placed a tentative hand on his arm.

"I know you're finding it hard to adjust, and that's understandable, Jane. But you can't stay up here and wallow in self pity forever, you're not gonna move on that way."

Jane smirked humorlessly, risking a quick glance behind him at Lisbon before continuing to stare at the wall.

"We're all worried about you, we miss you," when he didn't respond, she whispered "I miss you."

That got him. He rolled over and sat up, mirroring Lisbon as he too perched on the bed opposite her. He ran a hand over his face as she waited patiently for him to speak. She suddenly felt awash with nerves, she hadn't heard his voice in over a week.

"What do we got?" He mocked Lisbon, although his voice lacked its usual confidence, in its place a worn out and completely unenthusiastic croak. He was trying though, that was something at least. She offered him a small smile as she hopped off the bed, Jane replicating her movements.

"Caucasian female, late 30s early 40s. Husband found her dead in her kitchen, single bullet wound to the head. The guys are already on their way."

Jane nodded once as he reached his arm out in front of him, indicating for Lisbon to proceed him as they exited the attic.

"Better not keep them waiting then."

* * *

"What do we got?"

Lisbon cut to the chase as soon as she entered the kitchen, Jane a few steps behind, eyes scanning the house for clues. He stopped abruptly, looking to his left at the door under the stairs. From his position he was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, with the door under the stairs slightly behind him to his left. Lisbon caught him frown slightly as he fingered the wood of the door, before seemingly losing interest and joining her in the kitchen.

"Neighbor says she heard a gunshot around 9:30pm, the Husband, Paul, called the Police around 11pm when he got home from work. His Boss confirms he was there until 10pm." Cho stated rising to his feet, flipping his note book closed and putting it in the inside pocket of his Jacket.

Lisbon nodded and she turned towards Jane, his finger lightly tapping at his lips as he leaned over the body slightly.

"Jane, thoughts?"

He scrunched up his face as he titled his head slightly, umming and arring before straightening up.

"Nope."

Lisbon rolled her eyes, then catching a glimpse of Rigsby through the door adjoining the kitchen and the living room, questioning what seemed to be the neighbor, approached him as Jane was once again left to stand in front of the door under the stairs.

He decided something wasn't right, as he trailed his fingers along the door. He continued his walk down the corridor, looking up at the family photographs of the victim and her husband, placed on the wall all the way up the stairs. That's when he noticed it; All of them were placed perfectly, except for the first few along the wall, which had tilted slightly to the left, in what Jane would guess, a result of the wall shaking violently. In the way it would had someone slammed a door a little too hard.

He looked back at the door under the stairs. That was it. Someone had opened and closed the door a little too forcefully. Someone who didn't care too much for the décor. He backtracked to the door under the stairs and reached for the handle, pulling it open swiftly.

He barely had time to register the dark figure hiding in the darkness when two gunshots rang out.

Jane fell back against the wall behind him. The figure sprinted for the still open front door.

In what felt like slow motion, Jane slid down the wall like a raindrop trailing down a window pain, his world quickly being consumed by black dots as if a million spiders were circling his pupils.

The single bullet wound just above his right eyebrow rippled his heart beat around his body.

The other bullet wound to the left side of his chest spilled crimson patterns over his vest.

The last thing he heard was a distant scream from Lisbon.

"Jane!"

_**TBC**_


	2. Chapter 2

**I am completely mind-blown at the response so far to this fic, I really wasn't expecting it! Thanks to everyone who has favourited/followed/reviewed. It has really encouraged me to carry on :) This chapter is a little longer than the last, I hope you don't mind, I got a little carried away!**

**Once again thanks to Josh and ****PocketRocket911**** (check her out) for b****eta-ing!**

**On with the show!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

* * *

_The single bullet wound just above his right eyebrow rippled his heart beat around his body. _

_The other bullet wound to the left side of his chest spilled crimson patterns over his vest._

_The last thing he heard was a distant scream from Lisbon._

"_Jane!"_

Lisbon swallowed the lump in her throat as her heart constricted, horror pumping through her veins as it weighed her down, gluing her to the spot in the kitchen door way. Tears rapidly built and threatened to spill from her wide eyes at the sight before her: Jane was slumped horizontally against the wall, his feet facing the front door. A long curved smear of blood trailed down the wall, stopping where a lifeless Jane's shoulder connected to the skirting board. Blood pooled around his shoulders, seeping into the carpet.

"Oh my God," she whispered in disbelief. She brought her hand up to her mouth. "Oh my God!"

Cho pushed past her through the door way and knelt down next to a lifeless Jane. He gently repositioned him to lie flat against the increasingly blood-stained carpet as he checked for respiration. He began to unbutton Jane's vest and shirt.

"He's not breathing."

Lisbon crashed back down to Earth. _He's not breathing._ Her heartbeat was drumming in her ears as she fell to the floor next to Cho. Jane was already losing color. The wound above his right eyebrow produced teardrop-like trails down his cheek, severely contrasting his snow-white complexion.

She covered the wound with her left hand as she lifted her right to lightly press two fingers to Jane's carotid pulse.

Rigsby pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly dialing and pressing it to his ear as he sprinted out the front door.

"He's got a pulse, but it's barely there." Lisbon struggled to contain her panic. Her eyebrows knitted together as her breathing became more labored. She gently began to stroke her thumb along his eyebrow as she continued to put pressure on the wound.

Looking up, she noticed Van Pelt still rooted to the spot in the doorway, looking deathly pale and obviously in shock.

"Grace, listen to me. I need you to find me some towels. Now." Van Pelt's head snapped up. She made eye contact with Lisbon, conveying everything she felt before springing into action.

Lisbon turned back as Cho began to press his bare hands to the wound on Jane's chest, doing his best to stem the bleeding. With two fingers still pressed to Jane's neck, her worry grew when his pulse began to flutter under her fingers.

She looked at Cho, his usually stoic face twitching with anxiety. She didn't need to say anything; he felt it too. He immediately began CPR.

She leaned closer to Jane's face, using the hand previously checking his pulse to stroke his cheek as she gently reassured him.

"You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be fine." She tried desperately to keep the alarm she felt from her voice, but she knew she had failed. She couldn't help but think that if Jane were awake, he'd tease her about how terrible she was at lying. She leaned closer to his mouth, checking his breathing again.

Keeping her left hand on his forehead, Lisbon put two fingers of her right hand under his chin, gently tilting his head back.

She moved her blood-sullied hand away from his forehead and pinched his nose shut. She sealed her mouth over Jane's, blowing out a slow, short breath as Cho continued his compressions. She repeated her actions once more.

Van Pelt ran back into the room with a pile of neatly folded white towels in her arms. Eyeliner-stained tears left tracks down her face as she dropped to the floor between Cho and Lisbon.

Seeing both of their hands in use, Van Pelt placed a folded towel over Jane's chest wound. Cho placed his hands on top of it as Grace passed Lisbon a towel.

Lisbon gently pressed it to the wound on Jane's head, continuing to stroke his cheek. She could no longer contain the tears threatening to spill, as they tickled their way down her cheeks. He couldn't leave her now. Not after everything they'd been through. Not now, when he was finally free.

At that moment Rigsby dashed back into the hallway, followed by the EMTs. A young, brown-haired man crouched down and took over from Cho, holding the towel in place on Jane's chest.

Cho stood up and put a hand on Lisbon's shoulder, encouraging her to step back. She stayed glued to Jane's side, stroking his face.

"I think he's going into cardiac arrest." Cho helpfully informed the EMTs, who were preparing Jane for the gurney.

Lisbon looked up towards her team now standing by the front door, each one of them with a desperate expression.

A blonde paramedic gently pushed Lisbon away from Jane and placed a CPR mask over his mouth. Shakily, Lisbon got to her feet and approached her team, gesturing with blood-stained hands.

"Cho, you're in charge. Find out where the suspect went. Talk to the victim's family members, work colleagues, anyone who might know why someone wanted to her hurt her. I'm gonna go with Jane."

"Boss." Cho nodded.

The team watched as Lisbon followed the EMTs out of the door, faintly hearing one of the paramedics announce that Jane still wasn't breathing. The house became eerily quiet, as though taking a minute silence for the tragedy it just withheld.

Lisbon took Jane's hand in her own as she walked alongside the gurney, not caring that his blood was now completely covering her hands and blouse.

The paramedic waiting by the opened doors of the ambulance was lowering the ramp as they drew near. The pretty blonde placed a hand to Lisbon's shoulder.

"Are you family?"

"He's... he's my partner." She squeezed his hand as she begged the paramedic with her eyes to let her on board. The woman reluctantly nodded as they lifted the gurney into the ambulance, Lisbon following closely behind.

* * *

"But why was he still there? Why not just shoot Sarah and make a run for it?" Van Pelt frowned, her auburn hair curling over her left shoulder in a ponytail as she swayed in her computer chair slightly, watching Rigsby walk through the archway with a coffee in his hand.

"Maybe he was waiting for Paul to come home, kill him too." Rigsby offered, sitting down at his desk with an eager and hopeful expression.

Cho entered the bullpen with a determined walk, carrying a file which he threw down onto his desk. He sat down heavily, running his hand over his freshly changed shirt. He swung around in his chair to face both Rigsby and Van Pelt.

"You're both assuming this was a man. And if the suspect wanted to kill Paul, he would have done it as soon as he got home, but he didn't. Paul didn't know he was there."

Van Pelt sighed as she turned to her computer, typing away with an air of defeat.

"None of this makes sense."

"Van Pelt, check out their bank statements, see if there's anything suspicious, Rigsby and I will talk to the work colleagues."

Cho stood from his chair, pulling his jacket off the back and slipping it on, straightening the lapels. Rigsby joined him, still sipping at his coffee as Van Pelt turned to them, a fearful expression on her face.

"Do you think he's going to die?" She asked timidly.

Rigsby tried his best to offer her a small smile, failing miserably as his lips pressed together firmly. He turned to Cho. He blinked a glance at Rigsby before indicating with his head that they should leave. Rigsby squeezed Van Pelt's shoulder affectionately as he walked past.

Van Pelt once again sighed deeply as she turned to stare at her computer screen, her lips turning downwards as she blinked away unshed tears.

* * *

Lisbon jogged alongside the gurney, holding onto Jane's listless hand as the paramedics raced them into the Emergency Department.

The color from Jane's face seemed to be draining like a sand timer. The firmly-placed mask over his mouth made him look small and fragile as the EMT encouraged him to breathe again. The usually wild and angel-like curls now stuck to the side of his face with crimson glue.

Everything became a whirlwind when they crashed through the automatic doors. Lisbon was forced to extract her hand from Jane's, leaving her standing in the middle of the reception, frozen in place.

The world seemed to carry on without her as she heard cries of pain and fear, orders being thrown out and constant chatter like she had teleported into a morbid playground.

She watched as they raced Jane down the hallway. Two nurses on either side of him were propped up and standing on the bar connected to the wheels, one performing compressions and the other pumping oxygen into his lungs as the gurney roller coaster-ed through the doors towards the OR, separating Jane from Lisbon for the foreseeable future.

As the doors swung shut, she faintly heard the four cruelest words to ever burn her ears.

"His heart has stopped."

_**TBC **_

A/N: The American Heart Association no longer considers rescue breaths necessary for CPR, as the chest compressions are more important. You can give them if you choose to, though. (Just thought this might be helpful information, never know when you might need it)


	3. Chapter 3

**Once again thanks for the reviews/follows/favorites! I hope I don't disappoint :)**

**Sorry for the delay in update. I've currently got the flu so I hope you forgive me! It's very hard to think straight haha! As an apology this is the longest chapter so far.**

**Thanks to the people who took the time to review, and especially the ones who messaged me giving me tips on how to improve my writing, I really appreciate it :D**

**Thanks to Josh and Sydney for beta-ing!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except the hospital staff and secondary characters, they're all mine muahaha.**

* * *

_As the doors swung shut, she faintly heard the four cruelest words to ever burn her ears._

"_His heart has stopped." _

* * *

A dizziness rose from Lisbon's stomach, creeping up her chest to her throat as it began to make her face tingle. She watched as the doors slowly came to a stop, feeling alone in a room full of people.

The invisible rope that had held them together after all these years was now beginning to fray;

an emotional tug of war as Lisbon desperately tried to hold him close whilst the rest of the world pulled him away, untying the link they had bound with understanding and affection.

She could feel her grip on that rope slipping, like she was an anchor plummeting to the bottom of the ocean. Everyone around her floating past like sea creatures whilst she was pulled further and further away. The light that was once there was fading, taking her with it.

This feeling was suffocating. Drowning her. She looked down at her shaking hands, Jane's blood still seeping into the creases of her palms. It was too vibrant for something so dark and morbid.

She barely registered the middle-aged nurse gently hoop her hand around her elbow, guiding her to a blue chair in the waiting area.

"There you go, sweetheart." she whispered reassuringly.

Lisbon looked up at the nurse, stuttering slightly as she took in her appearance. Her big hazel eyes and shoulder length hair, framed a friendly and wise face. The lines around her mouth mirrored the roads of a map, each one with their own journey, a story of happiness and sadness, anger and stress, all connecting to form a story of a woman who had clearly seen and heard too much. A woman whose smile could give more reassurance than words ever could. She was beautiful. _Just like my Mom_.Lisbon liked her instantly.

"I'm sorry." It was all she could manage, Jane's lifeless body at the forefront of her mind.

"You're okay, just take a breather. Who are you here for, Darlin'?"

Lisbon shook her head, begging herself to take control of the tears beginning to spill again.

"I uh...Patrick Jane. He only just arrived, I don't..."

The nurse placed her hand on Lisbon's shoulder.

"Don't worry yourself, I'll go and check if they've registered him yet. You just stay there and I'll bring you some water, okay?"

The nurse smiled as Lisbon nodded hesitantly, watching the woman in blue walk off towards reception, her figure lit up in the golden hue of the sun penetrating through the windows in the waiting area.

It made her feel sick that everything seemed so calm and beautiful in everyone else's world; so slow and relaxing, whilst she felt as though she was waiting to be told her death sentence. The dread of the hours of waiting ahead now filled her veins as she stared at the clock above reception.

* * *

The SUV skidded to a stop on the creamy grit driveway. Sprinkles of red, purple and yellow flowers danced in the breeze along each side, leading up to a big, heavy mahogany door outlined with white pillars. The building resembled a Victorian castle. Huge, golden bricks framed tall, white triple windows as it oozed a quiet and calming atmosphere.

The silence was short lived as Cho slammed the car door behind him. Rigsby looked over at his partner, re-adjusting his black and grey-striped tie as they made their way to the entrance. Two elderly men sat at a wooden table on the freshly-cut grass, playing chess as they concentrated earnestly, their cups of tea spiraling steam into the afternoon sun.

"Will you keep it down?"

The agents stopped and turned to see a little elderly woman. The sun shone on her permed-grey hair as she hunched over a walking frame with an extremely annoyed expression, her fluffy pink slippers betraying her angry demeanor.

"Oooh, I might'a known! Police officers. Never do anything quietly, do you?" She shook her head aggressively as she smacked her lips together. "Although, none of us will rest until you find out what happened to our poor Sarah."

Rigsby moved his hands to his hips as he shot a look at Cho, standing with his usual no nonsense stance; crossed arms and emotionless face.

"You knew Sarah personally?" Cho asked the lady.

"Of course, dear! She was a caretaker here. Everyone loved her, so full of life. She would brighten up a room just walking into it, that one!"

"Did she seem upset or stressed recently?" Rigsby asked, pulling out a notebook and pencil from his top jacket pocket.

"Sarah? Never. Always a smile on her face. Although for the last couple of months she's had a spring in her step, that one. Pregnant I should guess." once again she shook her head, this time with sorrow as she pressed her lips together. "She was very close to Jim though; fancied her I think. He'd follow her around like a lost puppy, picking things up, offering her drinks. You'd think he got paid to look after her, not us." She laughed to herself.

"Jim?" Rigsby questioned with a slightly pressing expression.

"Are you really a police officer?" the woman asked with amusement.

"Where can we find this 'Jim'?" Cho interrupted. The quicker they sorted this out the better.

"In there," she indicated with a nod, "he'll be doing his rounds."

Rigsby gave the elderly woman a thankful smile as they made their way to the entrance.

* * *

"I'm sorry; there was nothing we could do."

There was a momentary shock of silence emitting throughout the room as everyone cast her a heartfelt sympathetic look. The pristine white walls vibrated as an earsplitting scream rang out. The dark night outside caused the windows to reflect, projecting her image on every glass pane as she was pulled to her knees by heartache and pain. Blood rapidly drained from her face, replaced by a deathly white. The doctor's words rotated around her mind, crushing her insides and forcing her emotions out in a stream of tears. She felt as though she was drowning. She wished she was.

The room once again captured a quiet mumble as other families tried to console one another, reassuring themselves and each other that everything would be okay. That the grief-stricken woman before them wasn't just a cruel foreshadow of what was to come.

A sea of blue uniforms gently hoisted her to her feet, all but carrying her away and out of sight, as her cries slowly soaked back into the walls, resting until they could pounce and shatter someone else's life.

"Boss?"

Lisbon shook herself out of her reverie, pulling her eyes away from the corridor the poor woman had just been lead down. Van Pelt stood in a dark blue jumper, unintentionally projecting Lisbon's mood with color. Her long curly ponytail curved around a black bag strap on her shoulder, which Van Pelt dropped heavily to the floor by her feet. She wearily took a seat next to Lisbon on the navy, cushioned chairs.

"I brought you your overnight bag; thought you might need it." Van Pelt whispered to her, noting the brownish blood stain still covering Lisbon's stomach.

"Thank you, Grace. So thoughtful." She offered a small smile of genuine appreciation.

"Have you heard anything yet?" Grace asked, a childish hopefulness to her question. It caused Lisbon to almost feel guilty for not having a proper answer.

"Uh...no. They kind of just took him away; I've been waiting here all day." Lisbon replied, bringing a hand up to move the hair from her face. She looked over at the clock above the reception desk and sighed dejectedly.

Van Pelt took in the dark circles under Lisbon's eyes. She knew she hadn't had a decent night's sleep since Red John's demise a week ago. She wondered if she had eaten anything today. They already had one team member down, they didn't need two.

"I'll stay here if you want to go change and get something to eat." Van Pelt tried, although she knew the pending answer.

"Thanks Van Pelt, but I can't. I need to know he's okay first." Lisbon gave her a tired but firm look. There was no changing her mind. Van Pelt smiled gently at her, before leaning back with a sigh and fidgeting with her hands. Her thoughts were so obviously somewhere else.

Once again Lisbon felt guilty. Grace was only trying to make things easier for her and she was giving her a hard time. In fact, come to think of it, Van Pelt had been her back bone this last week. She had caught Red John, California's most notorious serial killer and not once had she asked to be thanked. Then _she, _the boss, the one who was supposed to be strong, had the audacity to feel upset and depressed all week. How must Van Pelt feel? She pulled the trigger after all. Now here she was, once again looking out for everyone before herself. Bringing her clean clothes and offering to stay and wait for news on Jane just to make sure Lisbon ate something. She was a good girl, one in a million.

"Look, Grace," Van Pelt turned to her, seemingly shocked at the disruption of silence, "I just wanted to say thanks." She looked at her with complete astonishment, as though for the life of her she couldn't understand why her boss was thanking her. "For everything. For Red John, for bringing me my clothes. Just...thanks. You're a good agent, Van Pelt. A good friend."

Van Pelt responded with a beaming smile. "You're welcome, Boss."

Lisbon smiled gratefully. When this was all over, she would definitely give Van Pelt more field work. She didn't want to be the reason her career suffered.

"Jane will be fine, Boss. You know what he's like, likes to make a show of everything. He's probably nowhere near as bad as it looks."

"Yeah," she agreed with a humorless laugh. If that were true, why did she have an impending sense of doom sitting on her shoulders?

The room once again fell silent as a tall, dark-haired doctor strode in. His tired expression scanned the room before looking down at a red clipboard. Eager eyes took in a sharp breath as he opened his mouth.

"Family for Patrick Jane."

_**TBC**_


	4. Chapter 4

**I apologize profusely for the delay with this chapter. I had all my uni deadlines at the same time, as well as an exam, then moved back to my home country so my life has been a little hectic this past month. If it helps I have felt guilty every single day up until now for not uploading sooner. I hate not getting things done and especially hate feeling I'm letting people down. So I did a few all night-ers to get this done for you! I promise to try and be better in future sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry.**

**As a reward for your patience, this chapter is nearly as long as the whole fic thus far.**

**Anyway, on with the show :)**

**Thanks to Josh and Sydney for beta-ing.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

_The room once again fell silent as a tall dark haired doctor strode in. His tired expression scanned the room before looking down at a red clipboard. Eager eyes took in a sharp breath as he opened his mouth. _

"_Family for Patrick Jane"_

* * *

She felt her heart begin to force its way out of her chest. This was it. From this moment on things were going to be different, whether she liked it or not.

The disappointed sighs from frustrated family members enveloped the room. Crestfallen relatives slid down in their seats as they waited ever longer for updates on their loved ones. It almost made her feel guilty as her eyes roamed the room; tear stained faces of mothers gently stroking the heads of their sleeping and blissfully ignorant children as they lay on the chairs next to them. Men nervously resting their elbows on their twitching knees, staring off into space with thoughts full of despair and hope, their friends and family members placing a supportive hand on their shoulder. It was like a twisted game of minesweeper; they were all waiting for the bomb to go off that would signal game over. Signal life as they knew it, _over_.

But they all had something she didn't right now: family. She had Van Pelt with her of course, but it just wasn't the same. It didn't equate to having someone she could cry with. She loved her team, she really did and she knew they would be incredibly supportive whichever way this turned out, but she was their leader, their rock. She was supposed to support _them_, not the other way around. She wanted someone who could make her feel better just by sitting with her and reassuring her that it was going to be alright. Someone who could hold her hand. There was only one person in her world who could do that, and he was the one person who couldn't.

"Boss?" Van Pelt tried tentatively, noticing Lisbon seemed to be fighting an internal struggle.

She couldn't bring herself to move, to dare let her mind sieve her thoughts of Jane. She felt anxiety bubble up the veins in her forearms, her inner elbows burning with electric anticipation, as though a sheer millimeter of movement would change the future. That every single decision, every single thought she processed would change Jane's fate. That if she stopped thinking about him, even just for a second, she would lose him. He would die because she let him go - stopped holding onto the rope that tied them together, allowing him to fall and never return. She knew it was stupid. That no matter what she did, she had no control over what happened to him, but she just couldn't shake it off.

Jane once said that their minds were in sync. They would communicate with each other non-verbally, their actions a language only they understood. They knew when the other needed space, when they needed company. They were there for one another when they needed it most, offering a hand of support amongst the hands of rejection. It was almost like they shared senses, instinctively knowing something was wrong even when they were separated. _When she's unhappy, I'm less happy. _It wasn't a secret that more than words was all they had to do.

What if he was trying to reach her from the depths of his unconsciousness, willing her to keep hold of him, willing her to keep hold of her end of the rope. Willing her to pull him back in that tug of war of theirs. Reaching out his hand for her to take hold of and pull him back to life like she always did.

She closed her eyes briefly, a flash of Jane's million dollar smile coating her eyelids, his soft but penetrating eyes gazing into hers with that look she could never quite place. The look he devoted solely to her. She took comfort from it as Van Pelt signaled for the doctor to approach them.

Lisbon's hands trembled as Van Pelt laced her fingers with hers, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as the doctor sat down on coffee table opposite them. Lisbon felt initially uncomfortable when Grace failed to withdraw her hand, but she squeezed back none the less, appreciating the lever she could now hold onto.

This was it.

The doctor placed the red clipboard on his knees as he sighed with fatigue, seemingly choosing his words carefully. Every inch of her body constricted with apprehension.

"Mr. Jane is stable. We managed to remove both bullets with minimal damage." he offered in barely a whisper.

Lisbon felt her emotions snap, like stones crumbling from a mountain into the crashing waves below. He was stable. He was going to be okay, right?

"He's an incredibly lucky guy," The doctor spoke with great gentleness as he looked between the two of them, his tired eyes tainted with desensitization, "the bullet wound to his head miraculously caused little damage. It penetrated the right frontal lobe. It sounds bad for me to say," he paused, "but if you had to choose the best place to be shot in the head, it's there. It's the only part of the brain with a mainly superfluous structure."

Lisbon let out a shaky breath; this was too much information to take in. She didn't care what it all meant, she just wanted to know if he'd live.

"However, as we are uncertain about the period of time Mr. Jane went without oxygen, I'm afraid I can't tell you whether he will make a full recovery. If or when he wakes up, we will be able to determine any damage he may have sustained to his brain."

Her eyes widened as Van Pelt tightened her grip on her hand. _If _he woke up? _Damage_ to his brain?

The doctor gave them a moment before continuing. "He's being taken down to recovery now. He can have visitors, but one at a time, and immediate family only I'm afraid," he bowed his head with a genuine apologetic frown as he stood up to leave.

"I'm...I'm his partner," Lisbon croaked, speaking up for the first time. The doctor hesitated, taking in her pale and desperate expression as she steadily rose to her feet.

There was no way they were denying her the opportunity to be with him. Not when he needed her most. When she needed _him_ most. She would use her badge if she had too.

The doctor looked at Van Pelt, who gave him a weary smile. Her hands rose in an almost surrendering manner.

"I'm just a friend," she turned to Lisbon, giving her an understanding nod, "go ahead, I'll find us something to eat."

* * *

Rigsby exhaled a dramatic sigh as they exited onto the freeway. He glared longingly out of the passenger seat window, hoping to catch glimpse of a drive-thru sign amidst the darkness. It had been a long and frustrating day.

They had interviewed many 'old people' at the care-home where Sarah had worked, extracting mostly gossip and useless information. It was all the same; Sarah was a well loved and trustworthy lady. Why would anyone want to kill her?

A number of the older women, along with the feisty woman they met on the driveway, had speculated that Sarah was pregnant. When they had mentioned this to Jim, the man the feisty woman had said was close to Sarah, he visibly paled before mumbling something about it being none of his business. He provided them with an alibi, but something just didn't sit well in Rigsby's stomach. He had a hunch something wasn't right. He smiled slightly to himself. A hunch. Jane would be proud.

His thoughts trailed back to this morning, Jane's lifeless body sprawled against the wall like a disowned rag-doll. They hadn't heard a single thing back from either Lisbon or Van Pelt since Jane had been rushed away in the ambulance. He was on tenterhooks as to whether that was a good or bad sign. He let out another lengthy sigh.

"Will you stop doing that? You sound like a humpback whale," Cho deadpanned.

"I'm just worried, you know?" He shifted in his seat, "Nervous."

Cho continued to drive in silence, waiting for the inevitable speech.

"What if he doesn't pull through? He has to, right?" Rigsby turned towards Cho, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, "I mean if it was really bad we would have heard something back by now. It's been hours so that has to mean that he's still alive."

He glanced out of the passenger window once more, watching as the orange street lights danced across the glass.

"Or maybe it's bad news and they'd rather tell us in person, you know?" He pressed his lips together as his eyebrows knitted, "polite," he added in a hushed tone.

Cho tilted his head, parting his lips briefly as he inhaled, blinking with disregard for Rigsby's tiresome monologue.

"Imagine the boss," he continued, shaking his head slightly as he bit the inside of his cheek, "she'd fall apart."

Rigsby's phone rang shrilly. He leaned forward a little as he reached into his right inside pocket to retrieve it. He fumbled slightly as he answered, the caller ID proudly showing Grace's smiling face.

Cho silently thanked his lucky stars for the interruption.

"Er hey, Grace," Rigsby breathed as he placed his phone in the holder on the SUV dashboard, putting it on speaker phone. It still astounded Cho that even today, Rigsby couldn't talk to Van Pelt without getting flustered.

"Hey, you guys. Jane just got out of surgery. Lisbon's gone to see him now."

"Okay." Cho stated as he pulled into a service station, seeing Rigsby's shoulders sag with relief. For the news on Jane or for the food he wasn't sure.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Rigsby asked.

There was a moment of silence on the other end before Grace quietly responded.

"I don't know."

Cho and Rigsby shared a concerned look as they came to a stop in the mainly bare parking lot.

"How's the investigation going?" Grace tried, hoping to take their minds off the fact that their colleague and friend could be immobile in a hospital bed, dying.

"We need you to do a background check on Jim Blakely. One of the residents at the care home where Sarah worked said he seemed infatuated with her. We questioned him and he gave us an alibi, but something just didn't feel right. We're heading back now." Rigsby reached out to hang up the phone when Cho spoke up.

"Van Pelt, get hold of the bullets they got from Jane. We'll compare them to the one retrieved from Sarah's body. See if they were from the same gun."

"Okay, I'll get on it."

* * *

The doctor slowly pushed open the double doors to the recovery room, the slight creak of the hinges sounded like an Earthquake amidst the silence. Lisbon took a shuddering breath. The tightness in her chest had risen to her throat as she let the doors swing shut behind her. A single tear escaped from her red-rimmed eyes, leaving a glistening trail over the dark circles beginning to hollow underneath. She felt the overwhelming realization that this was really happening. Jane was really ill and she needed to be there for him. Her hands began to tremble as she shakily followed the doctor.

Numerous beds were lined up head-first against the wall either side of the room, each one separated by light blue floor to ceiling curtains. Warm, dimmed lights faintly reflected on the white tiled path running through the center of the room. Heart monitors and ventilators provided a somber yet reassuring harmony.

Lisbon swallowed. She heard faint whispers, barely audible above the whirring ventilators. She was glad that the drawn curtains shielded her from the images of broken family members desperately trying to sound in control of their emotions as they held one-way conversations with their comatose loved ones. She didn't need a preview of what her life would be like for the foreseeable future.

She pressed her lips together, shoving her hands into her pockets. Her shoulders tensed as her pale face scrunched with the effort of holding back the tsunami of tears. The doctor slowed as he approached the last bed in the right hand corner of the ward. He reached out to pull the curtains open slightly and Lisbon rapidly filled with trepidation. She almost didn't want to go in, terrified with what she might see. If he didn't survive this, this wouldn't be how she wanted to remember him. She didn't want to have to live with the fact the last time she saw him he was wired up and _not him_.

She tried to visualize him once more. The way he carried himself with the self confidence she knew was a mask. It some how made him so much more precious, like a Rubik's cube waiting to be solved by someone who took the time to know how. The way his presence could both unease and reassure. His completely heart wrenching vulnerability he only allowed _her_ to see. The way he would excitably sprout useless facts or honor her with shy, tiny titbits of information about his family. They way he would smile, genuinely smile with her, like she could one day be the one to make him truly happy again.

The doctor pulled back the curtain and that perfect vision of Jane collapsed around her.

Machines and wires hung from the right side of his bed, trailing down to his arms and chest. His slightly swollen face was barely visible behind the breathing tube protruding from his mouth, pumping oxygen rhythmically into his lungs. Pristine white sheets covered his torso to his underarms, gauze protecting the bullet wound on the left side of his chest. A cocoon of bandages wrapped from the top of his head to under his chin like a helmet, keeping in place the dressing covering the wound above his right eyebrow.

Standing by the slightly open curtains, Lisbon briefly registered that the sheets covering Jane acted as a camouflage, the pure whiteness making him appear almost invisible as they matched the tone of his skin.

She felt a light pressure on her shoulder, realizing that the doctor was still beside her.

"You can talk to him if you want." he gave her a gentle smile, "he might be able to hear you."

Lisbon turned back to glance at Jane. The only part of his body moving was the slow rise and fall of his chest. It made her feel nauseous to think that he wasn't doing that himself. That his life was in the hands of machinery.

"I'll leave you to it," the doctor gently whispered as he drew the curtains behind him, leaving Lisbon alone and standing a few feet away from Jane's bed.

She carefully and quietly approached the bed, taking light steps as though there was a chance she could wake him. _He's in a coma._

She so desperately wanted to caress his cheek, to let him know she was there, but she was terrified to do so. He looked so fragile, like the slightest touch would make him crumble like a house made of dirt.

She settled for gently taking hold of his hand, giving his fingers a compassionate squeeze as she stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. Her eyes scanned his face, the relaxed features betraying the seriousness of his condition. This wasn't Jane. Her annoying, clever, funny, Jane. This was a shell of the man she needed, so pale and still. He was in the room with her whilst being millions of miles away, and now, although he was alive, she had no idea if she'd ever have _her_ Jane back.

She squeezed his hand as she pulled the moderately comfortable-looking chair closer to the bed. Sitting down she looked at his gently closed eyes, his eye lashes sitting lightly on his pale cheeks.

_Please wake up_.

_**TBC**_


	5. Chapter 5

**I am so sorry if you had like 32545 emails about this chapter, but every time I uploaded it, ffnet cut bits off.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who gave me feedback on the last chapter. I have replied to everyone I can, but for the ones who took the time to review as a guest – thank you so much! I really appreciate it. **

**Weirdly enough, I had a dream about my own storyline. So the first scene of this chapter is a rough write-up of the dream I had as I liked it better than what I had typed up the day before :) I'm lucky enough to have loose control over the things I dream about and often dream about The Mentalist. I may start writing one-shots of the crazy stuff my brain comes up with.**

**Please remember, this is an AU fic, so anything to do with what we know about Red John and the suspects in the series, has no affect on this fic, as Red John is already dead. You'll understand why I wanted to say that :)**

**FYI: The Glabella, is the space between your eyebrows.**

* * *

_She squeezed his hand as she pulled the moderately comfortable-looking chair closer to the bed. Sitting down she looked at his gently closed eyes, his eye lashes sitting lightly on his pale cheeks._

_Please wake up_.

* * *

Silence.

That was the worst part.

They arrived back at the CBI a little after 9pm, the dark sky outside illuminated by orange street lights casting a soft warm glow across the dimly lit bullpen. The cold chill of the air-conditioning encouraged a shiver to tingle his spine as he sat down at his desk heavily, his now-full stomach bloating uncomfortably as he squinted slightly, the scent of cleaning products abusing his nostrils.

Everything was so quiet. Sickeningly quiet. As if the life had been sapped out of the bullpen.

He looked over at the brown leather couch in the corner of the room, a gray patterned throw resting messily on the floor next to it. It wasn't particularly a nice couch; wrinkles and creases of a slightly lighter color to the rest of the material gave it a damaged yet sturdy character. Although time had affected its appearance, and maybe even its overall strength, it was still there at the end of the day, providing the reliable comfort when needed.

In a way, it was an extension of Jane. Perfectly reflecting everything he was.

_Is_.

He sighed as he turned to stare at the black computer screen. It had been two and a half days now since Jane had been shot. He was still unconscious with no signs of waking up. As far as he was aware, Lisbon had stayed with Jane as much as possible, only leaving the hospital to shower and go straight back.

Bertram wasn't happy to begin with, but Lisbon had claimed the many weeks of vacation she had stacked up over the years. She insisted Cho was a fine agent and would do the Bureau proud.

The team had tried to talk her into going home more often; it wasn't healthy staying at the hospital for such lengths of time, but she had stayed all day every day until she was told to leave.

Rigsby looked up as Grace walked in holding a steaming cup of coffee as she sat down at her desk. She shuffled her chair forward, her long auburn hair rippling over her shoulders as she made eye contact with him.

"Hey," she whispered gently, before taking a sip.

He gave her a gentle smile as he admired her posture, before responding with equal tenderness.

"Hey."

The events of the last couple of weeks had made him realize how incredibly fast everything was happening, made him recognize how much time he'd already wasted over the last few years. The moment he had met Van Pelt, he knew she would be the only woman he would ever want to be with but things didn't fall his way. In a way he was grateful. They had both matured now, and were ready to commit the rest of their lives to each other.

He had come to the conclusion that things happen for a reason. Grace's and his relationship deteriorated the first time round because it wasn't their time yet. Their time was yet to come.

He wondered if this was what was happening for Jane. He wasn't killed instantly when those bullets penetrated his chest and forehead, because it wasn't his time to go yet. He still had things to happen for him. Things with Lisbon.

As much as they kept up a professional appearance, there was no denying the underlining affection they had for each other. It was building with each day, bubbling like boiling water ready to overflow. One of these days something was going to happen that was going to force them together. Force them to face their feelings.

Maybe that thing had already happened.

He momentarily considered retrieving the gray throw to fold and place neatly on the couch, but quickly distinguished the idea. For some reason, he felt it wasn't right to move it. Jane had most likely thrown it behind him as he jumped up off the couch with an exaggerated sigh. The fact that it was there because of Jane made him want to leave it alone. It somehow provided comfort, an indescribable sense that he was here, still moping about the bullpen with his turquoise teacup causing trouble.

A throaty cough rumbled along the windows of the bullpen.

Rigsby startled, glancing up to see Ray Haffner standing in the archway to the left of his desk. He was standing, almost ashamedly, holding a big bouquet of flowers with both hands. The bright red wrapping crackled slightly under his fingertips as he shifted it to cradle with one arm, the beautiful assortment of gardenias tickling his chin as leaned away from them.

"I'm looking for Agent Lisbon," he gestured with a thumb behind him, indicating Lisbon's dark and empty office.

"She's not here," Cho declared impassively, pushing past Haffner. He strode over to his desk and sat down with a huff, swiveling his chair to face the computer.

"Err, do you know when she'll be back?" Haffner glanced at Rigsby, feeling the negative vibes ride off him in waves.

"It's 9pm," Cho turned in his seat, forging a blank expression as he stared at him.

Haffner averted his eyes, laughing nervously as he chose his words.

"Yeah I was just...passing."

"She's not here," Cho deadpanned once again, his eyes never leaving Haffner's face.

Grace cut in, feeling uncomfortable as she watched the three-way staring contest.

"Here, I'll take them for her," she stood, holding her hands out in front of her.

Haffner seemed to debate his decision, before somewhat reluctantly handing over the flowers. He'd much rather give them to Lisbon himself, but he didn't really have a choice. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver envelope and slid it in between the bouquet.

He nodded his thanks to Van Pelt, before taking his leave, not bothering to wish goodbye to the male agents.

Van Pelt placed the bouquet on Jane's desk, before turning to lean on it, folding her arms and looking out across the bullpen hallway. She turned back to the guys, scrunching her face in confusion.

"Is it just me, or was that kinda weird?"

* * *

"Alright, thanks Rigs. I'll call you later," Lisbon ended the call, sighing as she slid her phone into the right pocket of her black leather jacket. The cool breeze of the air conditioning was a refreshing welcome against the humidity of the early morning sun, as she strode through the hospital entrance.

Rigsby had called to let her know that they were planning on meeting with Paul, Sarah's husband, later on in the afternoon. This morning the autopsy had confirmed that Sarah was indeed five weeks pregnant but Paul had not mentioned this when they had first questioned him.

The bullets retrieved from Sarah's body were a match with the bullets that were recovered from Jane, which Van Pelt had helpfully collected from the hospital. This lead them to believe that whoever had killed Sarah had hidden under the stairs and shot Jane out of panic when his hiding spot had been found.

Why he hid instead of fleeing the scene was a riddle they had yet to solve.

The clock above reception told her it was a little after 10am. She adjusted her white tank top as she offered a friendly smile to the nurses behind the desk. She was glad, with the hustle and bustle of visitors and busy staff, that her familiar face allowed her to pass straight through reception to ICU without being questioned.

As she opened the double doors to the unit, a tall, young nurse rushed to her side, the tight brunette bun on the top of her head making her already sharp cheek bones more profound. Her white sneakers squeaked against the tiled floor as she skidded to a stop, echoing a high pitched noise around the silent ward.

"Teresa! I have some brilliant news for you!"

The excitement on the nurse's face immediately encouraged Lisbon's stomach to dance with hope and anticipation. _Had he woken up?_

The nurse, Layla, had been one of the few nurses to look after Jane since his arrival. She had come to think of Layla fondly; sneaking Lisbon a cup of coffee or two from the break room, covering her with a blanket when she had accidentally fallen asleep against Jane's bed, clinging to his hand for dear life. Layla had helped to quell her anxiety about Jane's condition and for that she was entirely grateful.

"We can take Mr. Jane's bandages off today," she continued, eyes wide with friendly enthusiasm.

Lisbon desperately fought against the sinking in her chest. She pasted a happy smile over the hope crumbling underneath, feeling like a miserable clown at a kid's party. She bordered on feeling ashamed for letting herself believe that the news would be that Jane had woken up. It had only been two days after all.

"The head wound should have calmed down enough now to take a look and give a little clean," The nurse scrunched her nose as she spoke almost patronizingly. It was unintentional though, Lisbon decided.

"That's great," Lisbon nodded, shoving her hands into her pockets and biting her lip. She gazed around the ward, soaking in the sight of comatose patients bandaged up and hooked to machines. Jane had been deemed well enough to have his bandages removed, which meant he had to be improving, even if it was a little bit at a time. This was good, she reminded herself.

She followed as nurse Layla collected the cart she had been preparing before Lisbon's arrival, holding a small bowl of water and some gauze. They walked along the shiny floor, the wheels of the cart impersonating baby mice, irritating her more with each step. If she were the one in a coma, she thought to herself, the noise would have annoyed her enough to wake up, yet the room full of patients remained silent and still.

Lisbon closed her eyes briefly. Whenever she visited Jane in the morning, a strong smell of disinfectant tinged the air, making her stomach knot in protest. There was a distinct ill feeling that came with the smell of disinfectant and being in a hospital maximized it. She pushed the feeling down as they came to a stop, her want to see Jane prioritizing her thoughts.

Layla pulled back the curtain and pushed the cart to the left side of Jane's bed. He still hadn't moved an inch since he had been admitted two days ago; His dark blonde eyelashes remained resting lightly against the purple bags under his eyes. Wires penetrated from the dorsal side of his hand and elbow, his bare arms resting above the stark white sheets. The blue breathing tube lodged in his mouth pumped his chest rhythmically, providing the only sound that filled the room.

Lisbon approached the right side of the bed and gingerly sat down in the now all too familiar plastic chair as she watched the nurse squeeze on some latex gloves. Resting her hip against the railing on Jane's bed, nurse Layla leaned over Jane's midsection, lifting both her arms above his face. Lisbon tilted her head as she vigilantly regarded Layla as she began to carefully unwrap the cocoon of bandages surrounding Jane's head, mindful not to dislodge the ventilator protruding from his mouth. As the clockwise unraveling progressed, Jane's jaw line became more visible.

God, how she had missed that jaw line.

She had missed the way it had provided him with a perfect profile when he tilted his head in thought. How he would, on occasion, allow his stubble to make a somewhat rugged and sexy, yet still adorable appearance. The way he would lightly tap his forefinger against his lips as he gently lifted his head, defining it with flawless symmetry.

Yes, she had definitely missed that jaw line.

Lisbon watched with growing joy as Layla removed the last layer of gauze. Jane's darkened curls began to slowly spring back to life, like slow motion footage of flower buds blossoming. Her heart swelled; this was the Jane she knew.

Layla smiled knowingly at her as she dumped the unraveled bandages in the trash bag on the side of the cart. She turned back to Jane, who continued to lie motionless, as she reached for the smaller gauze still covering the wound above his right eyebrow. She gently rested her finger tips on the corner of the surgical tape, slowly pealing it back.

Lisbon was hit with a sudden rush of panic as though a black hole had formed inside her, threatening to reach out and grab her heart, allowing it to sink and never return. Her eyes immediately sought out the floor, her attention focused on brushing her shoes back and forth against the white tiles as the nurse pulled back the gauze.

She couldn't bring herself to watch as morbid images of the deep oozing wound she had covered with her bare hands on the day Jane had been shot, scrambled to the forefront of her mind. The vibrant red droplets staining his pale white skin.

What if the wound had caused so much damage that he was unrecognizable on one side of his face, with only his signature hair to prove that he really was Patrick Jane?

She silently berated herself; it didn't matter. He was alive. As long as he was still the Patrick Jane she knew, he could look like the elephant man and he'd still win her heart. He needed her to be strong for him. If she couldn't even look at him, what kind of friend was she?

She took a deep breath, slowly and uncertainly lifting her eyes.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as her gaze drifted along the scar above his right eyebrow. The stitches ran a perfect curve from his temple to the glabella, as though the devil had smiled an upside down kiss on his forehead. The skin around it was a nasty and shiny purple. She swallowed down a lump in her throat, the contrast of his pale face against the aggressive scar making her gut wrench for him.

"It's looking good," the nurse told her gently, "It's healing really well. He'll definitely have a scar for life I'm afraid, but it'll fade gradually with time."

Nurse Layla finished softly dabbing the surrounding area of his scar with fresh gauze. The stark whiteness of the material now washed lightly with brown, yellow and red blotches. She turned back to the tray on the cart, taking some steri-strips. She spaced them out evenly over his wound, before turning back to Lisbon and removing her latex gloves.

"I have some more news for you: they're planning on weaning him off the ventilator at some point today. He's showing positive signs of being able to breathe on his own."

Lisbon sat bolt upright in her chair, the creaky plastic scratching along the tiled floor. This was both elating but frightening news. She had prayed for this every minute of the day. Now it was finally happening she was absolutely terrified. What if he stopped breathing when she wasn't here to notice? She took comfort, when she went home, in the fact that the machines were keeping him alive. Now he had to do it all on his own, in more ways than one.

"I'll let you know when they're planning on doing it," Layla assured her, pulling open the curtains. She turned back to smile at Lisbon before drawing them closed behind her and wheeling the cart away.

Lisbon turned to look at a freshly un-bandaged Jane.

Over the last few days, the sound of the ventilator was one of the only sounds she'd heard and she hated it. Completely and utterly despised it. With every breath it pumped it mocked Jane's silence. There was only one sound she hadn't heard in two days and it was the sound she wanted most; Jane's voice.

She leaned forward, stroking her fingers lightly from his inner elbow to his wrist and back again, smiling wistfully to herself. There had been a time when she wished more than anything for Jane to keep quiet, back when he was a bouncy, troublesome man. Now, as time and experience had mellowed him, made him sad and depressed and lonely, she wished more than ever to have that Jane back. He had done what he had set out to do, had his revenge, but it was as though his life had no meaning. Now, lying in an intensive care unit, his life may as well end before he can revert back to the Jane she knew. It wasn't fair. How could one man have such a hard time?

She hadn't meant to have bonded so strongly with him. He was a work colleague, a friend who needed support. But somehow he had crept through her emotional gates and fixed a padlock, locking himself in and throwing away the key.

She sighed as she gently took his hand, trepidation building in her throat at the thought of the ventilator being removed. This whole ordeal had forced her to re-evaluate her relationship with Jane. She was beginning to realize that what she felt for him was different to what she felt for Cho and Rigsby. Sure she cared for them, of course she did, but Jane made her feel something. Made her feel safe with absolutely no self-defense training, made her feel comfortable without having to speak at all. She found herself admiring things about him, the way his suits fit his body as he walked, the profile of his face, the crinkles around his eyes. They shared a bond that was rapidly testing the title of platonic and she knew deep down that if she lost Jane, she would lose a piece of herself too and it had taken this accident for her to confront it.

Removing the ventilator was bringing him either one step closer to coming back to her, or leaving her for good.

What ever happened, there was one thing she was sure of; either way, things were never going to be the same again.

Oh, sheep dip.

* * *

"Please take a seat," Paul offered as they entered the living room.

Rigsby whistled under his breath as they walked through the white wooden door. A beautiful black fireplace was the focal point of the room. Matching golden sparkly candles were placed either side of it, pointing up towards a 32-inch plasma screen TV hooked on the wall above. Framed photographs of Sarah and Paul's wedding day were hung proudly on the wall either side, surrounded by cream and gold patterned wallpaper.

Paul sat down in a reclining cream armchair to the right of the fireplace. He nervously ran his hands up and down his thighs as he licked his dry lips, watching intently as Cho and Rigsby lowered themselves onto the two-seater couch opposite.

Paul desperately tried to control the shaking that was beginning to ripple through his hands. He breathed a long sigh as he kept his tears at bay.

Rigsby readjusted his tie awkwardly as he shifted on the couch, crossing his legs as Cho leaned back into the cushions, taking out his notepad with an unamused expression on his face.

"We just have a few questions regarding your wife, Mr. Myers." Rigsby pressed his lips together, shooting an apologetic look towards Paul as Cho turned a few pages of his notebook.

"Did you notice any changes in your wife's behavior over the last few weeks? Any kind of secrecy?"

Paul's eyes widened with initial shock before subsiding into a confused expression. He looked at the agents blankly.

Cho pushed on.

"Did she seem happier than usual? Maybe having mood swings?"

"No...no, she was the usual Sarah," Paul sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, staring with a lost expression at the cream carpet as he escaped into his memory. "Happy, bubbly. Nothing seemed out of place - why are you asking me this? Shouldn't you be looking for whoever did this?"

Paul raised his head to look at Cho, his eyes bloodshot with unshed tears. Dark circles weighed his lower eyelids down, aging his tired face. He was a heart broken man searching for answers.

Rigsby cleared his throat, making an effort to be as gentle as possible. Paul clearly had no idea Sarah was expecting. He was about to shatter an already broken heart.

"Our autopsy report confirmed that Sarah was pregnant,"

The color drained from Paul's face, a fresh round of tears threatening to spill over.

"What?" his voice croaked. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he slowly sat up straight.

"Sarah was five weeks pregnant." Cho reinforced.

"Five weeks... but she couldn't have been," Paul shook his head as his eyebrows scrunched. "I mean, I was...I was away for work for two weeks just over a month ago."

Cho blinked as he passed a side glance at Rigsby, who turned to him with a wide eyed expression. The plot thickened.

"I mean I wasn't even supposed to go, but my boss insisted it'd look good if I did."

Cho leaned forward a fraction, his eyebrows rising slightly as his head lowered a little.

"Your boss?"

"Yeah, he said that I was one of the favorites to be promoted to assistant manager. He said if I looked willing to work in my own time I'd be more likely to get it. I didn't want to leave Sarah for so long but she encouraged me to do it." He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair.

Cho and Rigsby shared a look; this was getting more suspicious by the minute.

"We're gonna need to speak with your boss."

Paul looked momentarily set back, as if he only now had begun to question his boss' insistence that he work so much. Stay away from home, to be more specific. His face took on a hard expression as his eyes darkened with accusation.

"James Lisbon. His name is James Lisbon."

* * *

"Tommy called me last night, he's thinking about coming down to visit with Annie if he gets the time off work. She'll be excited to see you."

Lisbon's cheeks hurt as the smile refused to leave her face. She couldn't contain the happiness that had yet to dissolve after the ventilator had been disconnected from Jane only an hour ago. The doctor had fixed him with a nasal cannula, but he was technically breathing on his own.

She knew she was babbling, and that Jane would tease her about it if he were awake, but she just didn't care; maybe the absurdity of it would wake him up.

She turned as the sound of curtain gliders sliding along the curtain track alerted her that Van Pelt had come to visit. She stood somewhat unsure of herself in the corner, holding a huge bouquet of flowers wrapped in a deep red plastic.

She inwardly blessed her. Trust Van Pelt to make an over the top gesture of affection.

"Hey, Grace. Lovely of you to bring Jane some flowers. So thoughtful." She smiled sweetly, although she was sure Jane would only be highly amused by the gift.

"Oh!" Grace gasped, her cheeks pinking at the obvious misunderstanding. "no, these are for you."

Lisbon turned her head as her eyebrows knitted, a small smile of confusion shaping her lips.

"Me?" why would Van Pelt buy her flowers?

"From Ray Haffner, he dropped them off at the CBI last night."

Van Pelt bit her lip to hide her smile as she approached Lisbon, placing the flowers in her lap. She turned away to stifle a giggle, masking her actions by collecting the spare plastic chair in the corner of the room to drag next to Lisbon's. She gently reached out and placed a hand on Jane's shin, letting him know she was there.

"Hey, Jane" She whispered, unsurprised when he continued to lay motionless. She noticed the bags under his eyes had produced a darkened purple color compared to the whiteness of his complexion. Dry skin had begun to peel around the corners of his mouth at the unusual lack of use. She noted however, that he looked healthier with only the breathing tube now hooked to this nose, but she supposed anyone looked better without a large tube protruding from their mouth.

Lisbon, realizing that she was still holding Jane's hand, quickly pulled away. Although she knew her team understood that her and Jane were close, she was still their boss and still had her professionalism to maintain. Plus, showing non-platonic affection towards a fellow colleague after she had on more than one occasion given Van Pelt herself lectures on holding hands with Rigsby, she felt it was a little hypocritical to do it in front of said person.

Examining the bouquet resting in her lap, she reached for the silver envelope lodged in between the gardenias. She momentarily questioned herself as she used her forefinger to tear it open, unsure whether she wanted to read whatever was inside. She was not in the frame of mind to have to deal with Haffner and his desire to charter her into his firm. He had already asked her once and she turned it down. Just get the message!

She pulled out a cream card, a beautiful and obviously hand drawn Rose decorating the bottom right hand corner. Her eyes scanned the black scribbled ink carefully.

_'Teresa, I am sorry to hear about Jane. I am here if you need anything, just call. Even if you just want someone to talk too. Ray x'_

Unexpectedly, she felt herself choke up. She'd never really had someone say that to her before. She knew she had people to support her, but it was nice to know someone cared enough to put it in writing.

"They're really lovely," Van Pelt interrupted her thoughts.

"Yeah. They are." A small, sad smile graced her lips. She felt somewhat guilty for being so touched by receiving a gift from a man, whilst sitting in front of Jane. It frustrated her. Although she and Jane were just friends, it never felt right to show interest in anyone else. Almost as though she was committing adultery. She had no idea if Jane felt anything other than friendly affection towards her, yet he still somehow controlled her feelings.

Lisbon blinked away her train of thought as she lowered the flowers to the ground by her feet, still holding the card in her left hand. She stared at it as though it was telegram informing her that a soldier had died at battle, yet she just couldn't put it down.

Van Pelt sat up a little straighter in her chair, mentally putting up an umbrella in preparation for the oncoming chance of rain.

"Ray seems to have a thing for you." When Lisbon responded with silence, Van Pelt continued, "Maybe you guys should go to lunch. Could be nice to have a break."

Lisbon felt an uncomfortable heat creep up her throat as a tingling danced on her shoulder blades. She hated talking about her personal life, so she did what she always does when she feels uncomfortable in a situation; seeks Jane.

She reached out with her right hand, clasping it around Jane's fingers as she stared at the note once more, wishing she had never received it. Why did he have to be so damn manipulative; giving her a romantic gift but wrapping it with a friendly message. He was playing her, testing out the playing field. Leaving it to her to decide whether she wanted friendship or something more.

She had no desire to think about other men whilst Jane was in this state. She knew Van Pelt was just looking out for her, encouraging her to take a break, but even just meeting with Haffner would make her feel insanely guilty, whether it be a friendly meeting or not.

A silence filled the room as both agents allowed their eyes to wander, furiously avoiding eye contact. Although they had worked together for several years now, even attended the odd yoga class together, Lisbon still felt extremely awkward talking to her about personal things.

"Yeah, maybe," she replied distractedly, hoping her answer would end the discussion.

Lisbon's entire body froze as she took an abrupt inward breath, her ability to talk sucked out of her. She lowered her eyes back to where her hand was linked with Jane's.

Van Pelt sensed the atmosphere in the room shift as she turned to see her boss staring intently, and wide eyed at Jane's and her interlaced hands.

After a painstakingly long and uncertain moment, Lisbon's head whipped round to gawk at Van Pelt in awe, before clumsily and frantically shuffling her chair closer to the bed. The card in her left hand dropped to the floor as she reached up and grabbed the bed rail. She leaned over and gave his fingers another squeeze.

She watched carefully. A relieved and joyful tear trailed down her cheek as she choked back a sob.

"He's squeezing my hand," she whispered with disbelief, before giggling through her tears. She let go of the bed rail and reached for her cross with her left hand, turning back towards Van Pelt with a huge and wet-faced smile.

"He's squeezing my hand!"

_**TBC**_

* * *

**A/N – a few people are worried Lisbon is gonna go with Haffner...don't worry, she can't be that interested if she put the flowers and dropped the card on the floor can she?**

**Please let me know what you think and if you have any theories to who killed Sarah and shot Jane. I would really appreciate any feedback you can give me, even if it's ideas or things you would want to read :)**

**Thanks to Josh, Dominique and Sydney for beta-ing!**


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